


The Top Scientist

by omgmybffmegatron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgmybffmegatron/pseuds/omgmybffmegatron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My, how the tables have turned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Top Scientist

**Author's Note:**

> Perceptor/Brainstorm  
> NSFW  
> Sticky sex, roughness  
> Horrible and pointless smut.

Sometimes, Brainstorm asked himself: Why am I doing this?

The engineer crept into Perceptor’s suite, knowing he was in recharge, and carefully crawled onto the berth. He settled himself between the mech’s thighs and ghosted his fingertips across the black expanse of Perceptor’s pelvic plating. If anyone were to ask Brainstorm if he thought Perceptor was attractive, he would say no. Secretly? Well, this was his rival, and without him, he was nothing; without him, he would have no competition, no motivation. To put it simply: Perceptor was the center of Brainstorm’s life.  
Yes, he found him attractive.

Brainstorm lightly fingered the exposed wiring at Perceptor’s groin, causing the mech to shift. How delightful it would be to have his rival squirming beneath him! The jet’s wings twitched; he was growing impatient.

He explored further, seeking the manual release. It was a tricky move; this could end up either really good or really bad. At that thought, his gaze flickered to the rifle leaning by the berth. So, Brainstorm, was this worth getting shot and/or pistol whipped? Definitely.

With a quiet click, the plating retracted, revealing the two covers. Slowly, Brainstorm slid his hands back along the sniper’s thighs, paying special attention to the treads lining the mech’s calves. Yes, there it was. Perceptor’s lips parted as the other scientist stroked one of the wheels and then the track itself, enjoying the ribbed texture beneath his fingertips.

In addition to his scope, hoses, and helm vents, the tank treads were one of the most sensitive parts of his body. Much to Brainstorm’s delight, the teasing had Perceptor squirming against the berth and his expression twisting slightly in pleasure. After a moment of basking in triumph, the engineer brought his fingertips to Perceptor’s spike cover, circling the rim, toying with the dark metal surrounding it.

The sniper gripped the edge of the berth, his cover spiraling open, allowing his spike to pressurize into the jet’s warm hand. He was bigger than Brainstorm had imagined—not that he imagined Perceptor in such a way or anything! It was just nice and thick, and ribbed; and all black with charming red accents.

Without thinking, Brainstorm enclosed his hand around the base, thumb swiping over the textured underside. This elicited a soft groan from the sniper. Curious, he retracted his face plate and leaned down to draw his glossa over the tip, teasing the slit. More noises escaped the red mech. Oh, this was more than Brainstorm had anticipated!

He then wrapped his lips around the bulbous head, drawing the spike in further as his mouth grew accustomed to its girth. Beneath him, Perceptor clawed at the berth’s edge, lips parting in bliss as the jet began to work his glossa along the underside, working the phallus rather skillfully for such an arrogant mech. One might wonder just how many spikes he’s sucked in his lifetime…

But then Perceptor growled.

Brainstorm froze and began to pull away when he felt a hand firmly grip the back of his helm. “Oh no, you will finish what you started.” Perceptor sat up to watch, amused at having caught the engineer.

The jet’s wings flickered in alarm as his mouth was held down over the spike, his muffled curses creating vibrations that further pleasured his rival. “It isn’t nice to talk with your mouth full,” Perceptor chided. “Hmm…” The sniper reached for one of the wing panels, caressing the smooth metal before trailing his fingertips down the edge. Brainstorm whined around the spike, hands gripping Perceptor’s thighs tightly.

“Mm, you’re good. But as much as I would like to see you consume my transfluid like the hungry slut you are, I would rather enjoy fucking you instead. After all, this is about determining which of us is the better scientist, am I right? It wouldn’t be fair if I was denied the chance to compete…”

Brainstorm protested, sending more vibrations through the spike’s length, causing it to leap against his glossa. Perceptor glared down at the jet and roughly pulled him away. “You will not go near my interface array, Perceptor! Wait! What are you doing?!”

The sniper turned the engineer around and shoved him against the berth, ignoring the rants that spewed from the jet’s vocalizer. He went for Brainstorm’s wings once again, tweaking the edges, massaging the tips between his fingers. Oh yes, the moans were much more enjoyable.

Brainstorm began to tremble beneath the other scientist, his back arching slightly, exposing his aft. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen! He regretted ever thinking of sneaking into Perceptor’s quarters! The jet was startled by a hand that crept between his thighs, stroking his interface panel. No, he couldn’t… He was supposed to be the top scientist!

Perceptor activated the manual release and brought his fingers to the valve cover, brushing it with his thumb, coaxing the thin metal to spiral open. “You’re already wet for me, Brainstorm. How nice.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you need to be gagged?”

“I—what?! Are you crazy?! I always knew you were a—GAH!”

Perceptor grunted sharply as he roughly penetrated the jet’s valve. It clenched around him so deliciously; so warm and tight. He pressed in as far as he could, reaching the node at the back of Brainstorm’s canal, causing him to jump and shudder as the sensation dominated his sensor net.

There was a satisfied smirk on the sniper’s face as he pulled back, only to snap his hips forward once again. It was a good thing his quarters had thick walls; Brainstorm was quite vocal. Perceptor placed one hand at the space where the jet’s wings met his frame, keeping his torso firmly pressed to the berth as the other gripped his narrow hips, pulling the engineer back with every forward thrust.

Brainstorm never expected the reserved scientist to be so aggressive in bed, and he most certainly would never admit to enjoying it.

Perceptor’s movements were vigorous, driven by the moans escaping the teal mech and the intoxicating sound of his spike slipping in and out of the saturated valve. It was music to his audials.

“Per—Percep-tor—AH! F-Frag!”

The slick mesh walls suddenly clamped down around the spike as another gush of lubricant rushed out to coat its length. Brainstorm began to press back against the sniper; riding out his overload as he gave blissful mewls.

Perceptor now had both hands at Brainstorm’s hips, his engine giving a hard rev as he reached his own overload. He growled through clenched teeth as jet after jet of transfluid was pumped into the engineer’s valve.

The sudden wet heat had Brainstorm reeling into a secondary overload, his wings already visibly trembling.

Perceptor waited for their ventilations to calm down before withdrawing. He sat back, staring lazily at the other scientist. “Our shift begins in an hour. I advise getting as much recharge as possible between now and then.”

Brainstorm forced himself to sit up, closing his panel. “B-Bastard… I won’t be able to walk properly because of you!”

“That was the idea.”


End file.
